See You In Hell
by sammiesundevil-at-221b
Summary: Moriarty is a superhuman, and has been since he was a child. To get what he wants, he must convince Sherlock to cooperate, and to do that, he needs a bargaining chip in the form of Dr. John H. Watson. Everything is going according to plan until Sherlock-turned John Harrison-and Dr. Watson end up on the same ship captained by James T. Kirk.


See You In Hell

**CHAPTER ONE: WELL GOOD LUCK WITH THAT**

His head felt like it was on fire. Jim never could get used to the feeling of his skin pulling itself back together, his bones molding back into place, or his nerves reattaching themselves. His throat was burning too. _Well, that's what I get for shoving a bullet into my mouth._ Feeling began to flow back into his limbs, searing into his hands and feet, so he slowly pushed himself up until he was standing upright. The roof of St. Barts was empty save for a river of drying blood. He heard commotion from down below, and walked to the edge of the roof to peer down.

_So, Sherlock did jump after all_, He thought, grinning down at the broken body of his greatest distraction. Blood pooled around his head . . . but something was off. Jim watched as his little pet felt for a pulse at his wrist and smiled. He could just make out the shape of a small rubber ball concealed beneath his coat, slowing his pulse.

_Oh he was cleaver, very very cleaver._ The entire execution was so elegant Jim found himself giggling in delight like a schoolgirl. Sherlock had everyone, even his powerful brother convinced that he had done away with himself. Of course, Jim knew better. He was too proud, too arrogant to really go through with it. _He was too much like me._

Jim swiped my hand against the back of his head, and then flicked his fingers out, sending a shower of blood down on his distraction, his pet, and the bystanders. Confusion arose amongst them and he poked his head down to grin at his distraction, who was currently being lifted onto a stretcher.

Though he was still playing dead, Jim could have sworn he saw Sherlock's eyes flash dangerously when he spotted him, watching him from the roof. Jim's grin widened as Sherlock was taken into the hospital.

"See you in hell." Jim challenged, willing the wind to carry his words down to Sherlock's waiting ears.

Once the crowds cleared, Jim made his way to the staircase and took his time going all the way down to the basement. Three black-clad men and his partner Sebastian Moran met him at the base of the stairs.

"Alright boss?" Sebastian asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Moriarty snapped. "Let's go. He'll be awake soon."

Jim led the way around to the back entrance of the Morgue. He could hear Molly Hooper shuffling around, and so he remained outside, peering in every so often to see if she was still there. Finally, she left and locked the door behind her, and so Jim slipped in with his men following close behind. Sebastian and the others stepped into the shadows, and Jim stood at the foot of the table, wanting to be the first thing Sherlock saw when he woke up.

An hour passed before Sherlock began to stir. He groaned as the drug finally made its way out of his system and opened his eyes, only to hiss in pain and shut them against the bright light of the morgue. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and then slowly sat up on the table, holding a hand against his throbbing head.

"Well you're a right mess."

Sherlock froze and looked straight in front of him. Standing there at the end of the table was the one man he thought to be dead. Moriarty leaned casually against the table, and smiled at Sherlock.

"H-how—" Sherlock gasped, his voice was raspy. He cleared his throat and let his eyes roam over Moriarty. Aside from his suit being stained with blood, he looked as he always did. Expensive, perfectly fitted suit, silk tie, hair combed back without a single strand out of place, and that menacing grin plastered onto his face. Still, Sherlock had seen him with his own eyes. Moriarty had put a bullet through his head. He'd seen the blood running across the roof of St. Barts . . . and yet here he was, completely unscathed. The serum made his mind cloudy, and he was unable to glean anything else off of him.

"You're rather slow today, aren't you dear?" Moriarty asked, moseying to the side of the table. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet.

Sherlock tried to speak again, but his throat was dry, and ended up just coughing harshly. He swung his legs to dangle over the side of the table, and looked up to glare at Moriarty.

"How?" He demanded, staring him down with his clear verdigris eyes.

"It is a rather remarkable story," Moriarty began. "I do so love stories." He murmured. "Well I supposed I should begin by revealing that I am not human, well, not human like you."

"Explain." Sherlock demanded, his voice cutting through the air.

"A while back, in the late 1950's, a secret organization was conducting some very interesting experiments." Moriarty began. "Very hush, hush, need to know basis only, of course."

"Not run by the government, I presume?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh no, quite the opposite. The government was the one funding the experiments in the first place." Moriarty smirked.

"And what of these experiments?" Sherlock prompted.

"Oh, right." Moriarty nodded. "A serum had been created that would give a person superhuman strength, intellect, everything. The results were better when the serum was given during childhood, you know, since the body is still so soft and moldable. Actually you walked right into the headquarters not too long ago. You were on one of your cases."

"Baskerville," Sherlock murmured. "Of course."

"It's rather amazing, is it not?" Moriarty continued. "To be able to give a person superior intellect, strength, _savagery_, . . . it's remarkable, don't you think?"

"Oh," Sherlock sat up straight. "Genetically engineered soldiers."

"Not soldiers, no, no, no." Moriarty shook his head. "Explorers! New regions in the universe are being discovered every day, and the government wanted to find a way to send people even further than they'd ever gone before."

"Space travel?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Indeed." Moriarty nodded. "Fifty-three years ago, a team of 72 volunteers—all of whom had been given the serum as children—were sent out on a mission. They're still on it actually. The ship is scheduled to make a month-long orbit around earth any day now before continuing on its journey."

"Fifty-three years in space?" Sherlock asked incredulously. "Sounds a bit dull."

"Well they won't remember any of it. They're all asleep." Moriarty said rather plainly.

Sherlock flashed his eyes at him. "Asleep?"

"Oh yeah, they're all tucked away safely into Cryotubes. They'll be asleep until their Captain's tube automatically wakes him up in oh, about 247 years." Moriarty said, smiling.

"And their Captain is? . . ." Sherlock muttered.

"Do you really need to ask that?" Moriarty smiled.

"Oh, so you're a superhuman too?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that explains how you're still alive."

"Indeed." Moriarty smiled. He rummaged around in his pocket and drew out a silver tube. It almost looked like a syringe, but there was no needle that Sherlock could see. "Here comes the tricky part."

Sherlock waited patiently.

"I need you to come with me to assist me in a special project, but I know that you'd never come willingly, so here's what I'm going to do." Moriarty twirled the tube in his hand. "I'm going to give you this, and once you're knocked out, I'm going to fetch your little pet and do the same thing to him."

Sherlock's eyes widened and he leapt off of the table, cocking his arm back to swing at Moriarty. Before he could get close enough, a pair of strong hands yanked him to the ground. Sherlock huffed as the breath was knocked out of him, and winced as Moran pinned his hands down with his knees.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Sherlock growled, trying to squirm his way out from under Moran's hold.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Moriarty rolled his eyes. "that would be rather counterproductive in ensuring your cooperation, my dear."

"I'll kill you," Sherlock swore.

Moriarty merely chuckled. "Sure you will." He smirked. "Get him on the table." He ordered.

Two other men came forward and threw Sherlock back onto the table. They wrestled him out of his Belstaff coat and suit jacket, and then ripped the sleeve of his purple shirt to reveal his forearm. Moran held his arm down as Moriarty stepped forward, silver tube in hand.

"What is that?" Sherlock demanded, still trying to get away from the men holding him down.

"Just a little something." Moriarty smiled. "Stop moving or this will hurt a lot more."

Sherlock ignored him and continued to fight against the men restraining him. He hissed when he felt a sharp pain in his arm, and gasped as what felt like fire shot through his veins. His breathing became labored, and sweat beaded across his skin. He fought to stay awake, but the pain was so intense that his body shut down against his will. The last thing he saw was Moriarty standing above him, smirking in triumph.

"Now what boss?" Moran asked once Sherlock was unconscious.

"He'll be out for a while." Moriarty said. "Let's get him to base, then we'll go pick up his pet."

Moran nodded, and he and the other three men lifted Sherlock up and carried him out the back of St. Barts. They dumped him into the back of a van, and then drove towards the base. From there, they prepared to travel from the base up to the ship currently playing host to the other 72 cryotubes. Once on the ship, they secured Sherlock in the Medical Bay.

"What do we do when he wakes?" Moran asked.

"We move forward as planned." Moriarty murmured. "Moran, with me. The rest of you, stay here and keep an eye on him. If he wakes, contact me."

"Yes sir." The three chorused, and then took their positions at the entrance of the room, their eyes trained on an unconscious Sherlock.

"Let's go." Moriarty nodded to Moran, pocketed a phaser, and then they returned to base and prepared to pick up the next piece of their puzzle.

0o0o0

John sat in his armchair, staring across to where Sherlock's armchair rested, empty and slowly collecting dust. He'd been sitting there for days now, only moving when Mrs. Hudson insisted that he get up and eat something. It had been four days since Sherlock fell, and still to John, it felt like it had happened just hours ago.

"Woo hoo!"

John looked up to see Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway.

"Hello," John croaked. His voice was coarse from not speaking for days, and so he cleared his throat and tried again.

"I brought you something dear, thought you might be hungry." She carried a tray to the kitchen and set it down on the table.

"Oh, thank you." John murmured, not moving from his chair.

Mrs. Hudson stood behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It will get better dear, just give it time."

"Will it?" John whispered.

Mrs. Hudson squeezed his shoulder gently. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

John nodded, and then Mrs. Hudson slipped out of 221B and back to her own flat. John remained in his chair for a few more moments, and then got up and moseyed to the kitchen. He smiled at the tray of food Mrs. Hudson had made for him, and then went about making himself a cup of tea. As he was turning the kettle on, he heard the front door to the flat open and close. He dismissed it, thinking it was Mrs. Hudson running some errands, and continued making his tea. He carried his mug back to his chair, but when he saw who was lounging on his couch, he dropped the mug, shattering it and sending hot tea everywhere.

"You," He whispered.

"Hello, Johnny-boy!" Moriarty grinned.

John's hand shot to his gun, safely stashed in the back of his trousers and aimed it at Moriarty. Before he could pull the trigger, Moran stepped forward and hit the gun out of his hands and kicked the backs of his legs, forcing him to his knees. John groaned and tried to get up, but Moran placed a heavy hand on his bad shoulder, keeping him on the floor.

"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with." John snapped, glaring at Moriarty. His shoulder throbbed where Moran held him in place, but adrenaline was coursing through him, giving him the strength he needed to glare up at Moriarty with a challenging glint in his eyes. Moriarty smirked, and then let his face return to a more reserved expression.

"No, I'm not going to kill you," Moriarty rolled his eyes and got up. He stepped around the table until he was standing right in front of John. He pulled a strange silver device out of his pocket and pointed it at John's chest. "I need you."

"What could you possibly need me for?" John demanded. "It was always you and Sherlock. I didn't matter, and I still don't."

"Oh you have no idea," Moriarty whispered, and then pulled the trigger.

John felt himself flying backwards, and landed hard on his back. He groaned in pain, and then gave in as he fell unconscious.

"Get him in the van." Moriarty ordered. "We need to get him back to base before he wakes up."

Moran nodded, and hefted John onto his shoulder and carried him out of 221B. He dumped him in the back of the van, and then he and Moriarty sped back to the base. Halfway there, they heard John groaning from the back, and so Moriarty spun around in his chair to stun him again. John fell silent, and this time they were able to make it back to base and to the ship. Once on board the ship, they moved him to a room before there was any chance of John waking up again.

"Sir!" Two men arrived at the door.

"Get him strapped to that table." Moriarty ordered.

The two men helped Moran get John onto the table, and then they strapped him down so there was no chance of him getting up and leaving.

"Moran, go keep an eye on our other guest." Moriarty murmured. "Make sure he does not leave that room."

"Got it boss." Moran nodded, and then strode out of the room and back to where Sherlock was held, still unconscious as the serum flowed through him.

Moriarty had the two men stand guard at the door, and then slid his jacket off and draped it over a chair. He pulled out another syringe, and spun it in his hand, waiting for John to wake up.

A few minutes later, he heard John groan in pain as he came around. John blinked against the bright lights, and then suddenly panicked when he felt that he was tied down.

"What the—"

"No use fighting it Johnny-boy," Moriarty grinned. "You're not going anywhere."

"What the hell did you do to me Moriarty?" John snarled, fighting against the restraints.

"Oh relax I just stunned you." Moriarty waved his hand dismissively and then prepared the syringe. He ripped John's sleeve up the seam to his elbow, and then shoved the syringe into his vein.

John hissed in pain and tried to yank his arm away. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

"Just giving you a little something," Moriarty grinned, slowly injecting the serum.

"What is it?!" John growled. He felt pain shoot through his arms, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Don't worry, Johnny-boy, it's just a serum." Moriarty smirked, and yanked the syringe out rather harshly. John winced, and clenched his hand. It felt like his entire arm was on fire, and it was slowly spreading to the rest of his body.

"W-what is in the serum?" John gasped, the pain making his mind begin to shut down.

Moriarty smiled, and tossed the syringe. "Goodnight, Johnny-boy."

John shouted out in pain, and then his whole body seemed to shut down as the pain became too intense. He felt himself floating for a bit, and then he finally gave in, letting himself fall unconscious again.

"He's rather feisty," Moriarty muttered to the men at the door.

"How long will he be out, sir?" One of them asked.

"Not sure," Moriarty stared at John, fidgeting as the serum took over his body. "This one's rather tough. He may be finished before the other."

The men nodded, and Moriarty sat in the corner, preparing to wait until the transformation was complete.

Four days later, Moriarty was startled awake when he heard the monitors hooked up to John Watson beeping rapidly. He bolted upright and went over the results.

"That was faster than expected." He said to himself. He turned to one of the men at the door. "Get a cryotube prepared."

"Yes sir!" The man saluted, and then rushed off to get a tube ready.

Moriarty stood by the bed, and smiled as John finally woke up.

"What happened?" John croaked.

"Welcome back Johnny-boy." Moriarty smiled. "I've given you a special serum to turn you into a superhuman."

"A what?" John breathed.

"You are smarter, stronger, and more ruthless than any other human on earth." Moriarty grinned. "Of course, the serum I injected you with does not contain the same regenerative properties as mine or . . . that of others, but it's good none the less."

"What the hell are you talking about?" John demanded.

"The time for talking is past," Moriarty said, turning as the cryotube was wheeled into the room. The man opened it up.

"It's ready sir." He said.

"Good." Moriarty nodded. "Get him in it."

John struggled against his restraints as he was forced into the strange tube. His arms were pinned at his sides, and he was too weak to try to yank his legs free. Moriarty and the man managed to get the tube sealed, and then they watched as John slowly lost consciousness as the cryogenic sequence was initiated.

"Put him with the others," Moriarty panted. Wrangling John Watson into the tube had proved more difficult than originally planned. The man nodded, and wheeled John's tube to rest with the others in the loading bay in the ship.

"Now, we wait for Sherlock."

0o0o0

A week after he had been injected with the serum, Sherlock awoke, groaning loudly. He was no longer strapped to the table, and so he sat up and rubbed his head. He was surprised to see that his clothes had been changed. Instead of his trousers, black shoes and dress shirt, he now wore black pants tucked into heavy-duty black boots and a fitted black long-sleeved shirt. He also felt more solid than he'd ever felt before. He looked at himself and found that his body was no longer slim and lithe, but muscled and toned. His neck felt cold, and so he reached up and found that his hair had been trimmed, straightened, and combed back away from his forehead.

"Ah, you're awake." Moriarty grinned as he stepped into the room.

Sherlock swung his legs to dangle over the side of the bed. "What have you done to me?" He demanded, glaring at him.

"I've made you like me," Moriarty smiled. "I injected the same serum into your system that was injected into me when I was a boy. Your strength, intelligence, and ferocity is now unmatched. It is also practically impossible for you to die. You contain the same regenerative properties that I myself have. It will take a lot to bring you down."

"Why?" Sherlock demanded.

"I need your assistance." Moriarty grinned. "I am going to give you a set or orders, and you are going to follow each and every one of them."

"Am I?" Sherlock countered, bracing himself to stand up.

Moriarty nodded. "Go on, take your time getting up. I have something rather interesting to show you."

Sherlock glared at him, and stood up fluidly. Moriarty was impressed; he'd been much more unstable when he came through the transformation.

"And if I refuse?" Sherlock demanded, straightening the sleeves of his fitted shirt.

Moriarty smirked and turned on his heel. "Follow me." He commanded.

Sherlock scowled, but did as Moriarty asked. As they walked, Sherlock's eyes flitted everywhere. He was so relieved that whatever Moriarty had given him had not hindered his deductive abilities. He deduced that they were on some kind of ship in space, but not the kind of rockets that the public knew about. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie. There were so many sounds and sights to take in that without the serum, even Sherlock would have been overwhelmed. He found himself subconsciously adding a new wing to his mind palace to store all of this new information.

"This way." Moriarty's voice pulled him out of his mind palace, and he followed him into a dark room. Moriarty flipped a switch, and lights turned on, illuminating a long, narrow room. Lined up on the floor lengthwise, two by two lay at least six-dozen tubes. Sherlock looked at them curiously, unable to figure out what they were.

"Amazing, aren't they?" Moriarty smiled, moseying his way down the isle of tubes.

"What are they?" Sherlock demanded, gazing down at the tubes. They were mainly black, cylindrical, but there was frosted glass at the tops of them. He bent over them and his eyes widened. "There are people in there."

"Excellent observation my dear." Moriarty smiled. "They're cryotubes, the latest and greatest models. I helped design them myself."

"Why are you showing me these?" Sherlock breathed.

"Come take a look at this one." Moriarty stopped before one of them and nodded his head at it. "I think you'll find its occupant familiar."

Sherlock glanced at Moriarty, and then slowly stepped forward. He leaned over to look through the frosted glass of the tube, and his legs nearly gave out.

"John," He choked out.

"Yes, John." Moriarty said coldly. "He's been given a serum as well."

Sherlock took a shuddering breath, and placed his hand against the cool glass.

"I'll give you a moment." Moriarty stepped away and went to stand on the other side of the room.

Sherlock glanced up at him, and then looked down at John, sealed away in a cryotube. He leaned over and rested his forehead against the glass, right above John.

"I'm so sorry," He breathed, too softly for Moriarty to hear him. "John I am so sorry." He took another deep breath, and opened his eyes to look down at John. He was dressed in a similar outfit, but his expression was anything but peaceful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips pressed together, as if even thought he was sealed asleep in a cryotube, he was still fighting. _Oh John, always my strong soldier._ Sherlock thought. He leaned his forehead against the glass again, and then-almost timidly-pressed a kiss to the glass right over John's forehead. He then stood up straight, and looked at Moriarty.

"Well now," Moriarty led Sherlock down the room and to an empty cryotube. "This one is yours."

Sherlock sneered at it.

"Oh don't be like that." Moriarty rolled his eyes. "It's perfectly safe."

Sherlock observed the cryotube, and then halted in his steps when he noticed the nameplate on it. "Khan Noonien Singh." He murmured.

"Oh, yes." Moriarty nodded, as if he had just remembered something. "That is your new name. You won't be known as Sherlock Holmes any longer."

Sherlock glared at the nameplate and opened his mouth to say something when he remembered John tucked away in his own tube. He closed his mouth, and nodded his head curtly.

"Very good," Moriarty grinned. "I think, given time, you'll come to appreciate what I have in store for you."

"Not likely," Sherlock muttered. Moriarty pretended to ignore him.

"Alright now, enough chatting." Moriarty said sharply. "In with you."

Sherlock glared at him, but obediently slid into his tube. He never slept much to begin with, and he felt odd thinking about the fact that he'd be asleep for years, possibly decades or more. The top was sealed, and he felt an uncomfortable sensation, like he was being forced to sleep. Eventually he just let his body and mind give in as the cryogenic sequence began.

"Is he out boss?" Moran asked as he stepped forward.

"Sleeping like a baby." Moriarty grinned. "Okay, get the rest of the men and I'll seal you up too."

Moran nodded, and he and the other three men slid into their tubes and waited for Jim to seal them in. Once they were in, he went to his own tube and got inside. He'd built his to have the programming be workable from within, and so once the top was sealed, he punched in an order to have him automatically woken up in the year 2254 before beginning his own cryogenic sequence. Moriarty took a soothing breath as the sequence began, and then he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.


End file.
